The Killings of Fish
by Whatifweweredogs
Summary: What do you get when you cross a Daisy, an angel, a poisonous spider, and a billionaire? Nothing much, only a couple of deaths, a serum, a lawsuit, a world-renowned pie recipe, and the apocalypse. Nothing we haven't seen before.
1. Forewarning

Language, descriptions of violence, etc. You are warned.

Now enjoy :)


	2. Prologue

"Mother, I refuse to allow this man-"

"-Conroy is perfectly qualified, Victoria-"

"-to control me!"

"If you would allow him-"

"No, mother. I absolutely refuse." The mother and daugher passed the street vendors and shopkeepers, briskly yet with the air of an afternoon stroll and the eyes of a tourist - and the parisole's of royalty. While their dress had been toned down, the fine lace and silk they carried was far too high-class for these streets. "There is nothing you could say that could change my mind about him."

"You are so ungrateful, child, for everything that we do for you-"

"You do nothing except patronize me like I'm a child! I'm a woman, mother, and if you can't see that then I don't know-"

"You act like the Queen!"

"I will be the Queen, and don't try to fool me into thinking I don't know what you're doing. You can't. You want Conroy to control me so you two can be at the height of power, which-"

"Excusez-moi, mesdames, mais ce n'est pas une bonne rue d'avoir ce genre de conversations." A feminine voice, lilting and polite, interrupted the pair walking on the sidewalk. They didn't think twice about it at first, until they realized that they were the only pair of women in the vicinity, and they were in Wales, so why would anyone talk to them in French if they didn't know who they were-

( _Excuse me, ladies, but it's not a good street to have these kinds of conversations._ )

"Pardon?" The younger girl looked back first, eyes wide in curiosity and innocence, a young and rosy outlook on the world. "Est-ce que vous nous parliez?"

( _Sorry? Were you talking to us?_ )

"Oui m'dame. Les rues ne sont pas assez sûres pour divulguer cette information. Si vous me suivez je peux vous montrer un endroit plus privè pour parler, ou je peux vous ramener au manoir. Autrement, il vaut mieux èviter ces arguments royaux."

( _Yes ma'am. The streets are not safe enough to disclose this information. If you'd follow me I can show you a more private place to talk, or I can lead you back to the Manor_.)

"Et tu es..?" The older woman looked back at the girl dressed in white like she was in Rome, gold embellishments like she was royal herself.

( _And you are..?_ )

"Vous pourriez m'appeler votre ange gardien. Regardez trois têtes derrière vous un à la fois pour èviter les soupçons." The two women looked back nonchalantly, one at a time, just as the other girl instructed. There were three men following them, and there was something sinister wafting off of them, carried through a light breeze, like colors in the wind, and the pair exchanged a look.

( _You could call me your guardian angel. Look three heads behind you, one at a time to avoid suspicion._ )

"Je vois. Que pouves-vous faire pour nous aider?" The girl sped up in front of them, and ignored the question the Duchess asked, expecting them to follow as she weaved her way through the crowds, swift and light, her bright white easy to follow.

( _I see. What can you do?_ )

"How on earth will she manage to hide with her dress that color?"

"She is not hiding, Victoria, she is running. The hiding will come later, and I doubt she'll be with us."

"Why did she chose to speak French, and how did she find out who-"

"Shush, child. You heard what she said, it's best not to talk about such matters when there is so much danger in these streets."

Sure enough, the girl looked over her shoulder out of warning, as if to say 'shush', before looking forward and rounding a corner. They followed, and she ducked into a very narrow alley between the shops, heels clacking on the cobblestone streets loudly. "Avez-vous un couvre-feu?"

( _Do you have a curfew?_ )

"Non."

( _No._ )

"Bien sûr, vous êtes la future reine, et vous êtes la duchesse, ils n'oderaient pas mettre un couvre-feu sur vous."

( _Of course, you are the future queen, and you are the duchess, they would not put a curfew on you._ )

"Do you speak English?"

To that, the girl just smiled gently, shouldering a wooden door open roughly, in the manner of a man, to which the royal women were shocked and … awed at.

They went in nonetheless, and entered a cozy living space made up of a feather mattress on the floor, a table and a chair, and a furnace the size of a pot. The girl shut the door behind them and latched it with a large steel rod. "Non madame mais j'aimerais apprendre si j'avais le temps. Mais pour le moment, tu devrais rester ici jusqu'à ce que je soigne les hommes. S'il vous plaît vous rendre à l'aise, je sais que ce n'est pas beaucoup, mais les plumes sont douces et le four est chaud. S'il vous plaît verrouiller la porte derriêre mol, je serai de retour beintôt. Je vais frapper comme ça pour entrer," she knocked a rhythm, knock, knock-knock, knock-knock, knock, "et alors vous saurez que c'est moi."

( _No ma'am but I would like to learn someday. But for the time being you should stay in here until I take care of the men. Please make yourselves comfortable, I know it is not much, but the feathers are soft and the furnace is warm. Please latch the door behind me, I will be back soon. I will knock like this to get in, and then you will know it is me._ )

"Comment pouvons-nous vous rembourser?"

( _How can we repay you?_ )

"C'est mon mètier, duchesse, ne vous inquiètez pas."

( _It is my job, Duchess, do not worry._ )

And with that, she walked out into the alley, pacing the length in a calculated manner as a cat wiggles to stalk its prey. A waiting game. Sure enough, the men doubled back and looked in the alley after some lengths of the brick-lined row, recognizing her as the girl who talked to their targets.

"Ah, we have come to kill the Queen!"

"You have picked a bad place to do it, then." Contrary to her earlier statement to the Princess, the girls English was flawless, her accent just the sweetest hint of Italian, low and sultry and dangerous.

"Ah, Wales lacks in it's royal security."

"Unfortunately for you, it's civilians make up for it."

"Let us through, pretty girl, and we'll pay you well." The three men walked closer to her, and no doubt the young woman was striking, but she did not back down from their lecherous advancements. If anything, it made the arc of her lips curve, the corners twisting up in pitying, dark sile. "We can give you anything you can dream of and more."

"I'm sure." She purred, and they exchanged looks gleefully. The white dress was a ruse, the girl was undoubtedly more experienced than she let on. "Come a little closer, I've heard Englishmen are incredibly lavish towards their interests."

"And the Welsh women are beautiful." The man in the middle was the leader of the pack, she'd have to take him down first. She could do this, odds had been worse before, and this time she had a few tricks up her sleeve. Literally.

"What would you lads wish with the Princess and her mother?"

"Now, we shouldn't go around spilling secrets like that should we?"

They were almost in range, and she licke her lips in anticipation. No doubt, she was just itching to get her hands on the men like a cat itched to kill a mouse. "Aw, c'mon. You can trust me."

She fluttered her lashes, honeyed eyes trapping them like flies, their amber color a grave.

Then she pounced - silently, lithely, deadly, - a tiny blade flashing in between her fingers, dropped from her dress sleeve, slitting the throat of the man on the right, blocking an attack from the ringleader and kicking the man on the left in the gut with her booted foot, before pivoting on her heel and kneeing him in the skull when he bent over, wrapping her arms around the leader's neck and flipping him over her back so she could go in for the kill for his other partner.

Once she was sure he was slumped against the wall, she focused all her attention on the main assassin. Her main target. She was gonna drag this out, make it nice and slow, she was gonna enjoy her time. "C'mon, hon. I thought you were interested in me?"

She pouted, circling him. "You could at least give a little more bang for your buck."

He snarled, pulling out a shiny silver revolver, and she grinned ferally. "Bitch."

"Why, my dear sir, that's no way to talk to a lady." Her mouth formed a little 'O' in shock and offense, like he'd personally attacked her - and not the other way around - to which he straightened up and laughed.

"You're no lady. We put girls like you down."

"Aw." He aimed the revolver at her, and she rolled her eyes. He was gonna cut her game short. She sighed, throwing the tiny silver blade she used on his colleagues, and it found its mark in his cornea. She moved so fast it was a blur, he barely had time to pull the trigger, releasing a bullet, of which she dodged easily. "So sad."

Then she retrieved her blade out of his eye, slitting his throat cleanly (though there was no point) and cleaning the silver off on his clothing. She went out onto the street, leaning against the wall until a man in a peasant's attire came by and handed her the money for the deeds. "Thank you."

"Good job, Angel."

With that, she went back to the door, knocking her special knock, and the door opened shortly after. The Duchess peeked her head out, relieved when she saw the girl - horrified when she saw the scarlet stains on her white dress. "Ça va, ma chère?"

( _Are you okay?_ )

"Bein, ma dame, comment allez-vous?"

( _Fine, my lady, how are you?_ )

"Très bein, votre chambre est assez … confortable. Avez-vous été blessé par eux?"

( _Very good, your room is quite … comfortable. Were you hurt by them?_ )

"Non madame. Je peux te ramener au manoir maintenant."

( _No ma'am. I can take you back to the Manor now._ )

"Je vous remercie."

( _Thank you_ )

"De rien."

( _You're welcome._ )

She led them out, shutting the door behind them, "Mind your dresses."

"You speak English!" The Princess was shocked, elated that the girl could speak in their home language, "why did you lie?"

"Aye, I couldn't reveal that I was English. They underestimate the Welsh women."

"Were they English?"

"Yes, but they were not citizens. Their heritage had been exiled many many years ago for an assassination attempt at the late King. They haven't stopped since. If you wish to go out in public again, may I suggest taking a guard with you?"

"Of course." They stepped daintily round the pools of blood, a coppery scent glancing their noses, the Duchess completely avoiding looking at the bodies - far too delicate for that kind of visual - but her daughter looked at them with a morbid curiosity. "Who are you, exactly?"

"Like I said, Duchess, I'm your Guardian Angel." The girl winked at the older woman, leading them at a leisurely pace as if they were taking a stroll through a field of daisies and not a lower-income street of 19th century Wales, and instead of carrying a bouquet, her dress spotted with roses. But no passerby seemed to notice - or care - about her bloodstained attire.

"Is this a normal thing around here?" The Princess was awfully concerned about how nonchalant they were about the situation, and how her mother and herself were just walking down it earlier without a care in the world, totally unaware of the dangers it held. "Blood and death?"

"People die all the time around here. We don't exactly have the cleanest streets, nor the means to pay our doctors, and crime is inevitable. I'm surprised you didn't have someone accompany you."

"We requested to be alone this time."

"I request you don't do that again."

"I think we won't." The mother daughter pair exchanged looks yet again, brought significantly closer to each-other through this ordeal than they had earlier in the day. "Are you sure we can't repay you?"

"Ma cherie, the only thing that could count as payment would be your life, and that would be pointless."

"Are you in need of a job?"

"A job?" The mysterious woman looked at the Duchess curiously. "What does that mean?"

"You saved our lives. I'm sure my daughter would agree, even after me speaking on her behalf, that we would both love to have you as our personal _guardian angel_." The sentence came out rushed and unorganized, as if she wasn't sure what to say. As if she were afraid of the answer. Of course, that was all up to interpretation, as the last two words were said in a royally haughty manner.

"I'm not sure if your men would allow a lowly Welsh woman working with them."

"I'm not sure I care. You can be disguised as a handmaid, you won't need to fight on the frontlines with the rest of the fools."

"Mother, let the girl answer."

"When will you leave for England?" Though she had the chance, 'the girl' was not showing any inclination to answer.

"The morning of thursday."

"And when will you need my oath?"

"The quicker, the more likely we will go unnoticed."

"Mother, won't the Conroy notice that we just so happened to bring a Welsh woman back with us to be another maid?"

"Not if the lady's maid suddenly has an unexpected … accident."

"Ah, Duchess, I am certainly not qualified to be a lady's maid. I can barely keep myself presentable, much less one of the most important figures of England."

"You'll be serving Victoria, and my Maid is perfectly qualified to handle both of us."

"You won't finish until I say yes, huh?"

"No."

"I'll be there Tuesday morning." By this time, they were on the main street, and the girl in the white dress that wasn't so white anymore was gone.


End file.
